


Walking on Thin Ice

by Elfgrandfather



Series: Putin/Medvedev Archaeological Dig (Old Fics) [3]
Category: Political RPF - Russian 21st c.
Genre: Gun Kink, Gunplay, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-27 22:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18748162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfgrandfather/pseuds/Elfgrandfather
Summary: A spike of jealousy leads to a test of loyalty.





	Walking on Thin Ice

**Author's Note:**

> This is over a decade old and one of my only PWPs. I was a pretty normal teenager, clearly.

The door clicked as the last photographer left the room, and Vladimir folded his hands over the marble-topped desk. Dmitry smiled anxiously. Every couple of weeks, they had this supposed briefing session -- and they did discuss work when the journalists were there. Once face-to-face, however, Vladimir never missed a chance to quiz him on, in his opinion, more pressing issues.  
  
‘So, Dmitry Anatolevich,’ he said amiably, leaning back in his chair, ‘I’m glad to see you’re spending so much time with Yanukovich. He contrasts nicely with you in the press. I think it projects an image of equality. We certainly haven’t been bothered by as many irritating foreign accusations of imperialist behaviour. Well done.’  
  
Dmitry breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled at the older man. The joy dissipated almost immediately when Vladimir pronounced a single, ringing ‘however.’  
  
‘Yes, Volodya?’ Dmitry asked gingerly, shifting his hands in his lap. The benevolent smile on Vladimir’s face had been there since the beginning of the conversation, and though Dmitry usually liked seeing him smile, it looked strangely intimidating. His heart skipped a beat when the Prime Minister slid his chair back and rose, pacing to the window.  
  
‘You see, while I appreciate Yanukovich’s cooperation, I'd be lying if I said I liked his company. He seems like a boor. Not the kind of person I would expect you to form a real friendship with.’  
  
‘One must keep up appearances,’ Dmitry replied, uncertain of where this was going.  
  
‘There's a difference between keeping up appearances,’ he was taking a leisurely stroll around the office now, stopping behind his larger desk and opening a drawer, ‘and overdoing them. Tell me, and be honest: do you like him?’  
  
‘He’s fine,’ Dmitry said warily. He didn’t feel like the man’s best friend, but he didn’t consider him to be especially annoying, in the grand scheme of things.  
  
‘Tell me then, Dima. Have you fucked him?’  
  
Dmitry’s head snapped up in shock, and he felt his mouth fall open before his face contorted into a mix of confusion and disgust. Vladimir looked perfectly calm. He closed the drawer.  
  
‘Have you?’  
  
‘No!’ Dmitry gasped, standing up, ‘never! I - why would you think that, Volodya!’  
  
‘Don’t lie to me. I can find out in the next five minutes,’ he replied, his expression and tone not matching the nature of his words. ‘You seem very close to him, in some of the pictures. I'd say he looks ready to kiss you. Has he kissed you?’  
  
‘Of course not,’ Dmitry couldn’t keep the incredulous tone from his voice. ‘That's an absurd suggestion.’  
  
‘I respectfully disagree, Dima. It isn’t that absurd. He seems a lecher, and you are a whore.’  
  
Dmitry felt his cheeks become bright red. He was used to such talk from Vladimir, but he’d never felt the ominous cloud that hung over them now. He wasn’t sure what had set off this envy, and if he weren’t so scared, he might have been flattered. For now, all he could do was shake his head.  
  
‘Oh, you don’t think so? It’s because you’ve never listened to yourself during sex. You sound like a five-ruble prostitute, and I’m certain you hide an attitude that matches it.’  
  
The colour in Dmitry’s face deepened, and he mumbled a low ‘no.’ If he played along with Vladimir’s current thrill, he was sure he’d be fine. Which is why his legs almost gave when Vladimir rounded his desk to show off the sleek black pistol in his right hand.  
  
‘Dima, Dima, stop denying it. It’s not an insult: you’re a skilled whore. You trade sex for the best job in the country. I think it’s a rather smart move.’  
  
‘Vladimir, it’s not – I don’t give myself to you because of that,’ Dmitry said, controlling the shaking in his voice, and not moving when Vladimir took a step in his direction. ‘I'd do it even if we were both labourers in a common council block.’  
  
‘Oh?’ Vladimir gently laid a hand on Dmitry’s shoulder, and twisted the muscle in a way that made Dmitry’s body limp, a howl exiting his lips. ‘I did say you were a whore.’  
  
‘No!’ he gasped, falling on his knees, ‘Volodya – I love you, you know that, that’s why I do it. Why won’t you trust me?’  
  
‘I know you love me,’ Vladimir said calmly, cocking his gun, ‘but I don’t think I can trust you. No. I fail to see the relation between the two ideas.’  
  
Dmitry didn’t know what to say, and simply looked up at the older man, sure his legs would betray him if he tried to stand. He wouldn’t shoot him, would he? He couldn’t possibly, with everyone around. Yet, Dmitry was sure he'd gotten away with far worse in his past. So, when Vladimir nudged Dmitry’s lips with the barrel of the gun, he didn’t resist. The cold metal slipped inside his mouth, Dmitry’s eyes not once leaving Vladimir’s. The smile on the latter’s face relaxed, and he pushed the gun in deeper, giving Dmitry’s head a pat before hiding his hand in his trouser pocket. Vladimir quirked his bottom lip, and Dmitry’s eyes flickered down. He put both hands on his lap, to support himself and to hide his hardening cock. Without another word between them, Dmitry bobbed his head around the gun, then drew back, lightly licking the muzzle. He kissed the tip, and then took it in his mouth again, making small suckling sounds. Vladimir didn’t indicate whether he judged it to be a good job, simply moving the gun this way and that and watching with amusement as Dmitry’s head jerked to follow his motions.  
  
Dmitry looked down again, and, realizing the futility of the gesture, moved his hands away from his stiffness, placing them on Vladimir’s hips. The other man didn’t protest, simply nudging the gun on the roof of Dmitry’s mouth and taking a step closer. Dmitry could see the bulge in Vladimir’s trousers. While he worked on the gun, Dmitry’s hands slowly, slowly shifted from Vladimir’s hips to the front of his trousers, until his thumbs met around the base of Vladimir’s straining, covered erection. Dmitry was sure Vladimir had been teasing himself with the hand he’d kept in his pocket, and sure enough, Dmitry’s left fingers briefly stroked the other man’s hand as he massaged the area around Vladimir’s crotch. When Dmitry had caressed the cock twice, Vladimir withdrew the barrel from Dmitry’s mouth, centimetre by centimetre, moving the President’s lower lip down as he finally completely eased the gun out.  
  
Dmitry still felt the coppery taste in his mouth, and slowly licked his lips as he unfastened, unbuttoned and unzipped Vladimir. Dmitry felt the barrel of the gun against the side of his head, and noted its trajectory over his hair, then back to his temple, in an almost loving caress. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Vladimir’s underwear, and pulled it down, allowing the stiff cock to stand proud in the cool air of the office. Vladimir seemed content doing nothing except pointing the weapon at Dmitry’s forehead, so the younger man took the matter into his owns hands. He started lightly jerking his fist back and forth over the other man’s length, applying pressure on the underside of the shaft, right before the head, teasing the foreskin over the swollen tip. His movements became more slick as precome leaked out, lubricating the member. When the next drop pearled on the small slit, Dmitry opened his mouth and flicked his tongue over the opening, then lightly kissed it. Vladimir had exercised astonishing self-control all throughout the operations, the only sign of anything particular happening manifested in his rapid breaths, but he let out a low moan, and pressed the gun into Dmitry’s scalp, running a hand through the short, wiry hair with his other hand.  
  
Judging he’d teased enough, Dmitry started in earnest, and after experimentally taking the member in his mouth three times, he took all of it at once, feeling a few drops dribble down his throat and brushing the sparse, curly blonde hair at the base of the cock with his upper lip. Vladimir let another murmur escape when Dmitry lightly hummed, the vibrations travelling through Vladimir’s body like an electric current. He shifted his feet, and watched as Dmitry bobbed over the rosy flesh of his hard cock, stopping sometimes to worship it with kisses, culminating in several quick licks along the tip. Feeling himself nearing the edge, Vladimir let his hips give several short thrusts into the other man’s face, which Dmitry accepted hungrily, moving his head and stroking his own member to the rhythm his Prime Minister established.  
  
With a low shudder and pull of the other man’s hair, Vladimir emptied himself in Dmitry’s throat, pulling out just enough to shake part of the come into Dmitry’s mouth, onto his tongue. Vladimir took a step back, leaning on the desk, and as the gun left the top of Dmitry’s head, the President covered the end of his cock with his hand and, letting out a drawn-out moan, caught the seed, weary of spilling any on the expensive carpet. He took a few deep breaths, and looked up at Vladimir, who gave a little nod. Dmitry opened his mouth and showed off the fruit of Vladimir’s labour.  
  
‘Good, Dima. You can swallow.’  
  
Dmitry obediently closed his mouth and did as he was told, fishing into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his hand. Vladimir cleaned himself up, engaged the hammer on the gun, and extended a hand to the other man, helping him onto his feet. Once they were more or less on equal footing, Vladimir smiled fondly, placed the weapon on the desk, and put his hands at either side of Dmitry’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. When he retreated, he smiled again, tapped Dmitry on the shoulder, and went to put the gun away.  
  
‘Delicious, Dima, as it should be,’ he said, and went back to the younger man, pressing another kiss to his lips. He pulled back only slightly, and said, in a serious tone:  
  
‘And you promise I’m the only one who can see you like this?’  
  
‘God, yes. I promise.’  
  
Vladimir smiled.  
  
‘Well, when it’s said like that, how can I doubt your word? Good boy. Let’s go, now, I’m certain we both have a lot to do before the day is over.’  
  
Dmitry nodded, slightly annoyed at the prospect of going back to work in his current drowsy state. Vladimir opened the door for his friend, and gave him a light pat on the rear as he left.  
  
‘Though, if you ever do become tempted by one of those fools,’ he said, in a measured, but cheerful tone, ‘remember that my gun has many other places left to explore.’  
  
Dmitry’s blood rushed to his face.


End file.
